Disclaimer:This Harry Potter story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. This site is for entertainment purposes only. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Note [07.03.2003]: I heard that the first part of my story somewhat resembles a chapter from a story called Love Under Will. The author apologizes. I didn't mean to copy anybody's work.
Note [03.06.2004]: I have been trying to correct some mistakes in this story, both grammatical and important to the plotline. The ones of you, who have been reading this in ff.net before, prepare yourselves for some changes. Nothing major, though.
Thank you: My irresistible poison, Rotschopf
the Drow. And my wonderful second beta Dystopic. (Their work will start to show in the later
Chapter 1: Wings of the Snitch
The Golden Snitch. There it was, lurking right below the ring of the left goalpost in the Gryffindor end of the Quidditch pitch, whizzing streamlined along the high, shining pillar. They both saw it at the same time and dove for it: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.
Natalie MacDonald, the new Gryffindor commentator, burst into a wild, girlish ballyhoo and the students all around the stands stood up in excitement. "Potter is diving like a lightning bolt for the Snitch, but Malfoy approaches from the other side, dangerously fast. The Snitch won't have a chance! It's inevitable that one of them will catch it now! I hope it's Potter! Go Potter! Ouch! Ouch! Damn, no need to poke... Oh, Professor McGonagall! Erm, okay, I will try to be more impartial in the futur... and here comes Malfoy! He's flying side by side with Harry! Both approach the Snitch with a horribly high speed... Look out, Harry, you'll collide with the goalpost unless you... Potter dodges, so does Malfoy! They turn around and reach for the helpless little Snitch once again... And, Merlin's beard, they smash together!"
All the students, as well as the professors, leaned immediately over the stands' edges for a better view.
Natalie continued, her voice trembling as she pulled her hair nervously with white knuckles. "They plunge, alongside, towards the ground. Can they possibly survive through this horrible fall? Why won't they pull up? They almost seem to be like tangled together! What the devil is going on here? it's as if they were holding hands! Shake him away, Potter! Shake him away! But... Where is the Snitch?"
The spectators started to throw eager glances all across the Quidditch pitch, but nobody seemed to be able to distinguish the tiny golden orb anywhere. The players in both Slytherin and Gryffindor stopped their game and anxiously watched how their seekers battled together, rapidly approaching the ground.
This momentarily lack of attention opened the Slytherin chaser, Malcolm Baddock, a chance to score.
Natalie MacDonald noticed this, and her miserable moan soon echoed all around the stadium. "Oh no! Slytherin scores! It's now thirty to twenty for Slytherin! Aw, come on Harry, kick Malfoy off and get the bloody Snitch already! Oh no! Potter and Malfoy are just about to hit the ground. What in the name of Caramon is going on between them? Why won't they get separated? Aaaaw, and here it comes! A horrible crash on the ground! Aaah, I can't watch!"
Loud rumble filled the stands, and nobody heard what Natalie was furthermore commentating, or if she was commentating at all.
The atmosphere on the pitch itself was no less anxious. Malfoy and Potter had indeed shot for the snitch at the same time, and consequently collided with each other. But what made the situation very curious was the funny little fact that they had both caught the Snitch, and neither of them would let it go. They were holding the orb tightly from its two spluttering wings, and they were both so concentrated in fighting for the victory that neither of them paid any attention to the rapidly approaching ground. And, quite gloriously, they finally smashed against the muddy and grassy ground.
"Let go of it, Potter!" Draco grimaced. He was lying on his back, right beside the insufferable Potter. His voice came out hoarse and dangerous, as his lungs were aching mercilessly. His broom had hit him rather badly on the ribs when he had collided with the ground. Yet, he still managed to focus on the situation, and pinched the Snitch from its other wing like a drowning man would clasp a random piece of floating wood. "Let it go!"
"You wish!" Harry snarled. With his left hand, he was massaging the spot where Malfoy's boot had left a handsome imprint during their fall. His other hand was desperately wringing the second wing of the Snitch, far away from letting it go. "I got if first!"
They were both exchanging murderous looks and breathing deep and fast like wild beasts. They didn't care that their heads were aching, or that even the tiniest voices rang too loudly in their ears. They didn't mind that their legs and arms were covered in bruises, and the possibility of harbouring several strained joints and broken bones was a trivial, unessential point.
The only thing that mattered to them now, was the powerless golden ball trapped between their fists.
Harry growled loudly and grabbed Draco's fist with his free hand, trying to pry the Slytherin's fingers off the Snitch. Draco responded with another hard kick on Harry's already sore stomach. This made Harry even more furious, and he threw himself on top of the Slytherin, trying to strangle the blonde by pressing his forearm against Draco's throat.
"Give it up, Malfoy, or I'll make sure that you can't eat for days!"
Draco coughed under the pressure on his neck, but still succeeded to gather some strength to kick the infuriating Gryffindor off. Now it was his turn to roll on top of Potter, and once he succeeded, he wasted no time in hitting the Boy Who Lived bitterly in the jaw. "You give it up, you cheap slut! The Snitch is mine! It is I who caught it first!"
"The hell you did!" Harry threw the blonde away, ripping his silvery hair and frantically elbowing his ribcage. And once more, he pinned the Slytherin seeker down against the mucky grass mattress, under his own weight. "Gryffindor needs to win this game! I'll kill you if you won't let go of it!"
"I don't care about your petty threats, Golden Boy! As if I would let Gryffindor win!" Malfoy spat. "Besides, it's my turn! You've always got it before!"
"And I intend to get it this time, too! Malfoy, give it to me, or I swear I'll kick the life out of you!"
"Oh, yeah?" Draco charged. "I'd like to see you try!"
They were staring at each other, their eyes burning. Their faces were only a couple of inches apart, and Harry could suddenly distinguish even the smallest hair of Malfoy's madly scowling eyebrows. Draco's warm puffs of breath ghosted over Harry's lips, and involuntarily, Harry shivered. He stared down at the Slytherin, and suddenly felt very light-headed.
"Oh shit," he gulped, in a mere whisper. "Shit, shit, shit."
Malfoy was staring confusedly in Harry's wide green eyes, not understanding immediately. But when he did, he grinned like a fool. A horrified, amused and unbelieving fool. This was too absurd to be true! Without any warning, he nudged his hips upwards, causing Harry to gasp audibly.
"Well, well, well, Potter. What do we have here?" he drawled.
Harry was so horror-struck that he was nearly paralyzed: he was having a hard-on. A hard-on, because of Draco Malfoy.Scared out of his wits, he tried to wriggle away, but Malfoy wouldn't let him. Instead, the Slytherin grabbed him firmly by the collar, and pulled him even closer.
"Scared, Potter?" he sneered at Harry's face, very maliciously. It was only then when Harry felt also Malfoy's erection against his own.
Harry took several, nervous breaths and tried to maintain his relatively cool composure. However, his efforts were thrown away from the Astronomy Tower window as his embarrassment and shock were rapidly replaced with fury and rage.
"What did you do to me, Malfoy?" he hissed, and angrily thrust his free hand behind Malfoy's head, gripping the Slytherin's silky hair. With force, he pulled it backwards, and caused Draco to grimace and howl in pain.
Harry felt elated. Malfoy's growls of pain were music to his ears, and he tightened his grip of the blonde's hair even more. He was hurting Malfoy, and it was the best thing he had ever done. Malfoy was helpless, wriggling beneath him, and it was the best sight he had ever seen.
However, these wonderful feelings were short-lived, as even more new sensations started to flood in. To his utter terror, Harry found that he was really enjoying this fight. He was enjoying the fact that he was in control of Draco Malfoy, and that Draco Malfoy was momentarily in control of him. Hell, this whole wrestling fight had turned him on more than anything that had ever happened before. And Malfoy was noticing it, too.
"I think it is you who wants to do something, Potter," Draco sniggered. "Or rather, someone."
Harry wanted to scream with rage, but suddenly found Draco's soft, wonderfully scenting hair and baby-soft skin rather distracting factors. He couldn't help it; he just had to lean down, bury his nose in the Slytherin's hair and inhale the delicate apple aroma.
"Potter, you pervert!" Draco hissed. "Don't do that! Let go of the Snitch, and then let go of me!"
Only then Harry remembered the Snitch again. Luckily, he was still holding it with all his might. He looked at Malfoy's manicured fingers that were grasping its other wing, and all of a sudden he felt sick. Malfoy then managed to take him by surprise and the Slytherin kicked him off.
"Potter, you pathetic wanker, why won't you just once let me win?" he moaned.
They were both lying next to each other on the ground. They were panting heavily, and nearly tearing the wings out of the little golden ball between them. Running footsteps were approaching, and the boys finally realized that they were still on the Quidditch pitch, and everyone was watching them. Harry tiredly turned his head, and saw their team members arriving, along with Madam Hooch.
Natalie MacDonald had indeed fallen speechless while following the battle on the ground. To the outsiders, their wrestling looked even worse than what Harry and Draco were actually feeling about it. The stands were all clamour and the other players were close to starting a fight as well. However, Madam Hooch was rapidly taking lead of the situation.
"Boys, get up, both of you!" she bellowed.
Slowly, Harry and Draco heaved each other up. It was difficult, because neither of them was letting the Snitch go.
"Good. Now, before we start to clarify this dilemma, I want you to give the Snitch to me."
Neither of the boys obeyed.
"I said," Hooch changed her tone of voice more commanding, "Let go of its wings and give it to me. You're going to break it."
Madam Hooch was slowly turning angry, as well. "I said, let go of it! Right now,or I shall do Lockhartson your arms! Potter, you know already how painful it is to re-grow bones. And Malfoy, you should be capable of imagining it! Now, LET IT GO!"
Reluctantly, Harry detached his fingers from the ball's golden wings. When Draco saw him do that, he let go as well, and handed it out to the professor.
Madam Hooch smiled. "Good boys. Now, it seems to me that you both caught the Snitch at the same time. Is this true?"
"No! I got if first, Professor. Potter just tried to steal it from me," Draco hastened to explain.
"I did not try to steal it!" Harry retorted. "It was you who tried to steal it from me!"
"So not true!" Draco crossed his arms, and looked menacing. "I really got it first!"
"He's lying, Professor," Harry snarled. "I got it first!"
"Quiet, both of you," Madam Hooch sighed. "I have reached my decision. Sonorus!"
Her next words were heard by the entire stadium.
"Mr. Harry Potter and Mr. Draco Malfoy both caught the Snitch!" she declared. "Therefore, the result of this game is as follows: Slytherin wins the game with one hundred and eighty points, and Gryffindor loses with one hundred and seventy points. Congratulations, Slytherin."
The Slytherin stands rioted and cheered. The sixth and seventh years clapped their hands enthusiastically, very satisfied with Madam Hooch's decision. The younger snake hatchlings threw down green confetti and balloons, and waved Slytherin green flags.
The Gryffindor stands remained absolutely quiet.
"But Malcolm Baddock made the score after we caught the Snitch!" Harry roared. "That goal doesn't count! The game should be a draw!"
Murmurs from the other members of the Gryffindor team told that they all had the same opinion. Baddock's goal should not be counted.
"He did it before anybody saw we caught the Snitch!" Malfoy snarled at Harry. "So it does count. We won't take the credit away from him!"
"What credit?" Harry spat. "He did the goal when nobody else was paying attention to the game!"
"That's only because your team is so stupid to let that kind of thing to happen, Potter!" Malfoy barked. "Oh, but of course! You are still keeping that Weasel as your Keeper."
"Shut it, Malfoy!" Ron Weasley snapped, stepping forwards.
"For the first time in six years, Slytherin defeated Gryffindor," Draco looked haughtily at the red-head. "I'm hardly going to keep quiet about it. And, oh, Weasley? Thanks. You made it damn lot easier for us. How does that feel?"
The Slytherin team laughed. Then they applauded and whistled at themselves, and the players came to punch Malfoy friendly on the back. "You did it, Malfoy! We always knew you could do it! Good job!"
"It's Baddock we should all celebrate today," Draco grinned at the younger chaser who was responsible for their victory. "Great goal. True Slytherin-like scheming."
Malcolm was all sunshine, if that kind of expression was legal to use when it was the question of a Slytherin student. "Thanks, Malfoy!" he beamed.
Madam Hooch stormed away from the pitch, leaving the students to celebrate on their own. Harry took one last look at Malfoy, who was fuller of himself than possibly ever before. Malfoy blew him a kiss, and Harry felt his cheeks redden. The audacity of that jerk! However, in all his hatred and dismay, Harry could not understand why he still felt quite so uncomfortable in his trousers.
Harry cursed himself, and his capricious libido, and turned hastily to follow his team mates who were melancholically walking away from the pitch.
Draco glanced at Harry's direction one last time, and allowed a wide,
gleeful grin to spread across his face.